


Intimacy

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Hypothermia, M/M, Rebreathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blake and Avon are caught in an avalanche, Avon decided to save Blake rather than leave him to die. The conversation afterwards leads to places Avon did not expect ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally published in the zine ['Pride and Prejudice'](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pride_and_Prejudice_\(Blake%27s_7_zine\)) (ed. Aralias, 2015). You can read other fics from this zine by searching [the collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/PrideandPrejudice). You can also purchase your very own copy of the zine by contacting the publisher.

When the snow had finally stopped crashing down, Avon stood still in the cave that he had thrown himself into and calmly considered his options.

He was quite safe in the cave, at least for a while. Sheltered – even fairly warm now, snow was a good insulator. He’d have to make sure the entrance didn’t freeze up but he could make air holes. The Federation would eventually return but he and Blake had killed the guards before the guards could report back. Nobody would be in a hurry to investigate after the avalanche. No, he was safe enough here.

But Blake … Blake was outside, somewhere under that blanket of snow. He might not be dead – avalanches often didn’t kill immediately, especially if you found yourself something to shelter behind. He might not even be very badly hurt – but he would also be trapped and unable to escape without help.

The others would come, of course. They would rescue Avon when they did. The _Liberator_ had only left them at all because of the pursuit ships Jenna had spotted. A quick orbit around the planet and they’d be back. Probably only half an hour or so. But would they arrive in time to save Blake? That was the question.

Blake had chosen to bring them down to this damn planet. He’d let the _Liberator_ fly off without picking the two of them up. And then he’d been stupid enough not to listen when Avon had pointed out there might be guards, even in such an out of the way place as this.

And then the guards had come. And Blake had dealt with them by starting the avalanche – and perhaps with himself too.

Not that Avon was completely sure Blake had _meant_ to start the avalanche. It might have been an accident. Sometimes things just seemed to happen around Blake.

He would be dying right now. Even if he could breathe, his temperature would be dropping. It wouldn’t take long for fatal hypothermia to set in ...

If Avon left Blake, the others could hardly blame him, could they? There might be Federation guards out there. Why should he risk his life for Blake’s? Blake might already be dead. The decision to stay safe was the sensible one, the logical one. Why risk your life on an uncertainty?

Blake would risk his life for Avon’s, of course.

Damn him. Damn the bloody-minded, idiotic, idealistic _fool._

Avon stopped thinking. Instead, he scrabbled out onto the powdery snow, swearing as he sank into it. He thrust the snow away from him, already feeling the cold biting into him, knowing that he couldn’t stay out for long.

“Blake? _Blake?_ ”

It was hard to work out where they had been standing before the guards had appeared. The landmarks had all been buried, crushed beneath the snow. Avon struggled through the waist-high snow, trying to keep his eyes on his cave so he wouldn’t lose the shelter whilst trying to find Blake at the same time.

He found one of the dead guards first. It took him a moment to realise that Blake had used the man’s body as a partial shield and was crumpled beneath him. He was lying very still, head slightly to one side, lips greyish in a white face.

“Are you dead, Blake? Damn it, answer me!”

It surprised him to realise that he didn’t want Blake to be dead – that the idea was actually rather terrible to him. He slapped Blake’s cheek but there was no reaction. Should he take a glove off, try to feel for a pulse? Another thing that might hasten Avon’s own death. Scowling to himself, he got Blake under the arms and began the laborious process of dragging him back towards the cave. The snow kept slipping beneath his feet and once, he fell down completely, swearing as the snow pressed against him, soaking his clothes. He scrambled back up and continued to drag Blake until they half-fell into the cave in a shower of snow. Avon got back to his feet, wishing he could go back and erase their tracks but knowing it was impossible. Instead, he pulled Blake to the back of the shelter and leaned over him, dragging off his own glove and trying to feel for a pulse at the base of Blake’s neck. For a moment, he thought it was too late, that Blake was dead – but no, there was there was the beat, the movement of breath. Faint … but there.

So Blake wasn’t dead. At least, not yet.

The flicker of relief was unpleasant. He pushed it away and focused.

“Wake up, Blake. Come on, wake up!”

There wasn’t much he could do, he knew that. There was nothing to burn here, nothing he could use except himself to increase Blake’s temperature.

Himself …

He removed his wet jacket and draped the dry inside over Blake, tucking it around him. He straddled Blake, trying to offer the other man some of his body heat. It was not exactly comfortable but he knew that it was helping and that was something. After a moment, leaned down and breathed deliberately over Blake’s nose and mouth. He’d read about that, it was a good way to stimulate the person’s own breathing and warm them. He had never been so close to Blake’s face before, not in all their fights and skirmishes. The intimacy of it did not escape him. A man that he didn’t even like, didn’t care for … just as he didn’t care of any of the others, never would …

“Come on, Blake.”

Another gusted breath. Blake’s eyelashes fluttered, just a little. Avon breathed again, cupping Blake’s face with his hands as he did. 

“Come _on,_ Blake!”

He breathed again. Blake stirred, then jerked. Avon had no idea what Blake was actually trying to do but the net result of his abrupt thrashing was that their lips met in a rather painful simulation of a kiss, teeth clashing and mouths briefly locking before Avon managed to pull back.

“ _Blake!_ ”

Blake stared at him muzzily, then managed a rather weak laugh.

“Hello Avon,” he said and tried to sit up.

“Lie down,” Avon snapped, feeling oddly ridiculous. “You are hypothermic.”

“Won’t moving h-h-help?”

Blake was beginning to shake and his teeth were chattering. Avon leaned back over him and breathed again. It was harder to do now Blake was staring up at him. He couldn’t help thinking about Blake practically body-slamming him a moment ago, no matter how much he tried not to. He knew he was flushing slightly.

“No. Stay still. Moving will only make you worse. Let me warm you up.”

Blake nodded slightly. His teeth were still chattering. This time, Avon lay down, pulling Blake close to him. Blake clearly understood, moving so that his hands were tucked between them and pressing his face to Avon’s neck. Avon made sure his jacket was around Blake as securely as it could be and tried to think if there was anything else they could do.

“The others will come soon,” Blake said faintly, his mouth tickling the skin on Avon’s throat. Avon tried not to shiver. He didn’t want this situation. He didn’t exactly dislike being touched … but he certainly didn’t want to be touched like this.

But there was no point thinking about it. That would make it worse.

“That had already occurred to me or I wouldn’t have wasted my energy attempting to save you.”

“Oh, naturally not,” Blake agreed in that tone he always seemed to use for Avon. Avon rolled his eyes and wished that he couldn’t feel a creeping chill of his own. If they both got hypothermia …

“Aren’t you supposed to check my mental faculties?” Blake’s voice sounded stronger now.

“What mental faculties?” Avon asked automatically and was a strangely pleased when Blake chuckled. He liked to get a rise out of Blake, good or bad – and right them, it felt more inportant than usual. Blake was shivering a little less and Avon wasn’t absolutely sure if that was a good sign or a bad one – or would he would do if it was a bad sign. 

“You’ve gone quiet,” Blake said. 

“You want me to talk?”

“Yes, actually. About anything you like.”

Avon wanted to give Blake an annoyed look but from this angle, it was impossible to do anything more than glare at Blake’s snow-flattened curls. What was he supposed to say to that? It felt like an invitation of sorts but he wasn’t quite sure what Blake was inviting him to do. He tried to think of what Vila would do in this situation – well, Vila would babble away about anything and everything and probably bore any sane person to death. Unless they were Blake, of course, who would doubtless be interested and pick the important points out of the babble.

“Are you hoping this will become a heart-to-heart, Blake?” he said, deciding to voice his irritation.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of hoping for something so far-fetched,” Blake said. He shuddered and burrowed closer, wrapping his legs around Avon’s. Avon decided he was glad Blake couldn’t see his face. He had a horrible idea that he was blushing. This was … troublingly intimate now.

“Good,” he said, pleased that his voice continued to sound acid. “Because I do not intend to spill my secrets to you simply because you were stupid enough to get us caught in an avalanche. You’re lucky I bothered to save you.”

“Very lucky,” Blake agreed. “Lucky you managed to get yourself out of danger first.”

Avon considered this comment and decided it was a barbed compliment. Blake had understood that for Avon to save his life, Avon had to protect himself first. It was an understanding of who Avon was … but yet somehow …

“Very lucky,” he said dryly, deciding not to comment on anything else.

They fell silent for a while. Blake was definitely shivering less now and he no longer felt like quite such a chunk of ice. His breathing was more regular too. Avon wondered what was taking the others so long. Had their presence been reported to the Federation HQ before the avalanche? It would delay pick-up if there would be more ships around. He had no worries that they had been abandoned for good, not on purpose anyway. The rest of the crew were too … too _caring_ for that. Even if all evidence suggested that he and Blake were dead, they would insist on trying to save him – and Avon’s teleport bracelet was undamaged so they would be able to call in. No, they would come when they could and they would rescue them both.

Avon hoped that the Federation didn’t come first. He didn’t think that he wanted to be found by troopers whilst wrapped around Blake. It was the most vulnerable position he could imagine without being them both naked.

Now why had he thought of _that?_

And worse, his body had reacted to it, just a little.

It had been a long time since he had been this close to anybody in a physical sense – or an emotional one but right now, physical proximity was what mattered. In such a situation, it was hardly surprising that his body was becoming confused. His brain had no business following it, however. It was ridiculous to be thinking about such things.

“Avon?”

“What now, Blake?”

“Please talk,” Blake said. His voice was quiet now, no longer teasing. “I … I’d rather listen to you than think.”

“You never think, Blake.”

“Oh, I do. Too much, sometimes. It goes round in my head … and right now, I seem to be rather lacking in the ability to control it. Just tell me anything. Try and bore me, if you like. Something you’ve learned about Orac, perhaps, some obscure experiment you’ve been using the _Liberator_ labs for. Just … give me something.”

Anna had sometimes asked for him to talk to her like that. She’d lain against him, a lot like this, her hair tickling his chin. He’d told her all sorts of things; tales of the past, stupid things he’d done, things he hoped, dreams of the future …

It was possible that thinking of Blake being in any way like Anna was even worse than the consideration of impersonal physical intimacy earlier. Avon ground his teeth and took a deep breath.

“ _You_ talk to _me_ , Blake.”

“About what?” Blake sounded genuinely surprised which pleased Avon. It was always fun to wrong-foot Blake.

“Anything you like,” he said, imitating Blake’s earlier tone. “Just as long as it doesn’t mention the words _Federation_ or _rebellion_. I have heard more than enough on those matters from you already.”

“All right,” Blake said, sounding more relaxed now. “Although you’ll have to forgive the Federation cropping up here and there. It’s difficult to avoid something that’s been there your entire life. That’s perhaps altered your entire life.”

“Your memories?” Avon said, trying to ignore the stab of revulsion that always hit when he thought too deeply about what had been done to Blake. To have your memories, your mind ripped from you, changed and desecrated … it was death, death as sure as being shot through the heart. And even if you recovered, you could never be quite sure, always wonder …  
Sometimes he could understand Blake’s rage. To have your own memories unmade into falsehoods … it could drive a man mad.

“Yes,” Blake was saying quietly, unaware of the turmoil in Avon’s mind. “Oh, I can remember reality now. But I can remember the false memories too. It can be difficult to decide absolutely what’s real and what’s fabrication made by their machines. Or if some of the things I’ve forgotten are just things I’ve forgotten because memories change and fade over time anyway. When I think about my family … ”

He stopped speaking and shifted in Avon’s arms. Avon wondered what he was thinking. Talking to Blake was better than focusing on their situation.

“You miss them,” he said, neutrally.

“Yes,” Blake said. “After our parents died, we were everything to each other. They were killed because of me. I know they knew what I did, I think they supported me but … but it doesn’t seem right. And if the memories I have aren’t even _real_ … they’re dead twice over.”

“I’m sure they understood you,” Avon said and then. “After all, if you spent a lot of time with them, you doubtless bored them into submission with moralising speeches.”

For a moment, he thought he might have gone too far but then Blake laughed and shook his head slightly.

“I can always count on you, Avon,” he said.

Avon’s automatic desire was to say something sour. He bit it back, deciding it wasn’t the moment. Blake didn’t seem to expect anything else anyway – at least until he spoke again.

“Do you have any family?” 

Ah. Avon gave a soft sigh, considering his answer for a moment. He could refuse to speak but it seemed … churlish somehow. Needlessly aggressive, particularly in this circumstance.

“A sister, I think. I haven’t seen her for many years – she may be dead. I suspect not, however. Tor was always a survivor. She left because she knew otherwise she’d be dragged down with us – my father had lost our money and we were not popular. She got away and she will be out there somewhere, doing something impressive I have no doubt. My brother ... is dead.”

It had to be said. Blake would remember that he had a brother from their first day on the _Liberator_ flight deck. He felt Blake nod and one of his hands moved in what was probably meant to be a comforting pat. It felt more like a stroke.

Avon did not want Blake to stroke him.

He wasn’t sure if that was because it felt nice or it didn’t.

“It is no matter,” he said firmly, wishing he hadn’t spoken so much. “It was a long time ago now.”

“I doubt that makes it any less important,” Blake said quietly.

“There is little point in thinking too hard about the past,” Avon said automatically. “It can’t be changed after all.”

“It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still matter,” Blake said. “What the past is … that’s what makes the future, Avon.”

Avon didn’t feel as though he wanted to continue this conversation. It felt uncomfortable, like an ache at the back of his mind that he didn’t want to touch. Too close to things that had hurt so badly, too close to things …

“It doesn’t matter,” he said again, a little more fiercely this time, knowing that Blake wouldn’t really understand. Blake would never understand. He was so _confident_ in his belief that he could win, that he could change the world the way he wanted it changed. He never seemed to think that there was a possibility that everything you did could come to nothing.

“If you say so,” Blake said. There was a touch of disappointment in his tone, as though he’d hoped for more. Avon tried not to grind his teeth. It always aggravated him when Blake sounded like that. So much about Blake did. Or at least, he liked to tell himself that. It was easier than the alternative.

“Are you happy with us?” Blake asked suddenly.

The question seemed to come out of nowhere and Avon found himself actually considering the question, as opposed to rejecting it as he might normally have done. Happy? He hadn’t really thought about things in terms of happiness for a long time – if he ever had. Was he happy?

“Running around on a pointless crusade?” His mouth was apparently running on autopilot, speaking while he was feeling. “Is anybody but you happy with that, Blake?”

“You can be happy in some ways and not others,” Blake said. “Do you like the _Liberator?_ ”

Yes. Yes, he liked the _Liberator_. Not just because of the power and freedom that it offered but because it was beautiful and it was … home.

It was just saying it out-loud that was the problem. 

“Avon.”

“What?”

“Sorry I kissed you earlier.”

Avon was actually a little surprised that Blake had mentioned it. He’d hardly thought of the kiss since it had happened. He’d certainly hardly thought of calling it a kiss. It had been an accident after all, not really a kiss at all. Everything that had happened since had been more important than that. Physical contact was one thing. Emotions …

“I don’t care, Blake,” he said, deciding silence was the wrong response. “It didn’t matter.”

“It should have done though.”

This time, Avon decided that silence was the correct response – partly because he had no idea what to say. In a normal circumstance, he was sure he’d have had a barbed comment to make, a caustic comment to show that he didn’t care and wasn’t worried. Only he found that he _did_ care what Blake was thinking right now. And these were not normal circumstances.

Was Blake trying to imply that he wanted to kiss him again? That he wanted _more_ than that? It didn’t seem impossible, somehow. Very little was impossible with Blake in any case but right now … when everything was strange and different and there was this creeping feeling of _closeness_ …

Blake’s hands moved, gently pushing Avon backwards. Avon obeyed, stiffly, wincing at the movement. The position they were lying in meant that Blake only had to tilt his head up a little – their mouths were practically touching anyway. It was barely a move to make it a kiss. Avon supposed that he shouldn’t have allowed it … but with everything that had already happened, it seemed like hardly any sort of step at all.

It wasn’t a bad kiss, all things considered. Surprisingly pleasant actually. Blake’s lips weren’t really warm but the inside of his mouth wasn’t too bad. His seemed to know what he was doing too, which wasn’t so surprising – Avon was sure people had fallen over themselves to get into bed with Blake. He had less experience himself – but it didn’t seem to matter, certainly not right then. He just kept kissing and Blake kept kissing and it was far more warming than the body heat had been.

“Blake? Avon? Can either of you hear me?”

Jenna’s voice crackled from his bracelet and Avon pulled back from the kiss, blinking himself back to reality. He pressed surprisingly numb fingers against the button and brought the bracelet to his lips, finding that he was hugging Blake’s head in a weird way as he did.

“Bring us up fast, Jenna. Blake’s hurt.”

“I’m all right,” Blake said, sounding indignant but Avon could already feel the strange tingle that was the teleport. A moment later, they were lying sprawled on the floor and Jenna and Cally were hurrying towards them. Avon pulled himself away from Blake, wincing. He hadn’t realised how still they had been and how cold he had begun to feel himself. When Cally reached to help him up, her hand was almost too hot to him.

Jenna was helping Blake to his feet, draping his arm over her shoulders. Blake was smiling, speaking reassuringly as he always did, downplaying the danger he’d been in whilst praising Avon at the same time. Avon tuned it all out. He needed to think about what had happened, what it meant. He let Cally take him to be checked out, accepted the clean bill of health calmly, took the warm drink she gave him and tried to think.

He wanted to think that the sensation of intimacy that had so plagued him only a short while before would fade, that it would be gone. That it had been created by artificial circumstances and would shortly be nothing but an embarrassing memory for them both.

But that was a lie and he knew it. The intimacy hadn’t been created by Blake’s hypothermia or by the small cave or the close proximity. It had been building for months, since he’d joined the _Liberator_ in fact. And he hadn’t noticed it. He hadn’t _let_ himself notice it. He didn’t want to be close to Blake. He didn’t want to be close to any of them but _especially_ not Blake. Blake was a fanatic. Everything would come second to his revolution, everything. People most of all. There was no point pretending that anything could come of this. If Blake didn’t die, Avon probably would. And as he’d told Blake so often, he did not care about the revolution. This would end in tears. He had to remember that. He _had_ to remember that 

He had to get away from here. He had to change what was happening to him.

No matter what, he couldn’t let himself fall in love with Blake.

Resolved, he went to find the man, to let him know that what had happened was ridiculous and meaningless and that it was never to be repeated. It took a little while to find him – of course, Blake wasn’t _resting_ like a normal person who had almost died. He was standing on the deck of the _Liberator,_ tall and confident and questioning Orac about something as though nothing had ever happened.

Perhaps for him, nothing had.

But no. No, Avon knew that wasn’t true. Because he knew Blake, didn’t he? 

He gave a small cough and Blake turned to look at him. There was no obvious difference in his expression – he smiled but it was a usual, Blakeish sort of smile. Avon stared back, not sure what to do. Not sure what to think.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Blake said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Don’t think I’ll make a habit of it, Blake,” Avon said automatically.

“Oh, of course not,” Blake said. “But none-the-less, it was appreciated.”

They stood, looking at each other for a long moment. Avon felt that jolt of intimacy again, unavoidable, inescapable. He moved to his seat and sat down, watching as Blake turned back to Orac. Everything as usual.

There was nothing else to be said.


End file.
